Ghosts
by MLJTM519
Summary: If Jane Gloriana Villanueva had been asked, at thirty-two, how many arguments it would take to break her marriage, she would have named some impossible number. Infinity. Infinity a thousand times. As it turned out, the answer was four. But that was yet to come. An unexpected return throws Jane for a loop, a PR disaster threatens the Marbella, a murder connects them all. CORDUEVA
1. Chapter 1

If Jane Gloriana Villanueva had been asked, at thirty-two, how many arguments it would take to break her marriage, she would have named some impossible number.

Infinity.

Infinity a thousand times.

As it turned out, the answer was four. But that was yet to come.

At that moment, encased in the familiar comforts of her home, nothing could have convinced her that her world was about to shatter. Later, when she traced it all back, she would conclude that this was the last moment of peace.

And then, an innocent question.

"Mommy, where's re-con-cil-i-a-tion?" Mateo spelled out the alien word one syllable at a time.

"Wow, reconciliation is a big word, Mateo," said Jane, smiling at her son across the table. "But it's not a place. Reconciliation is when you do something wrong, and you make it right."

"Oh," said Mateo, confusion edged on his face. "But James from Sunday school said he was going there?"

Beside her, Rafael tensed. It was almost imperceptible, just the smallest shift in posture, but Jane took note. She did not want to re-open the argument over Mateo's Sunday school attendance; it had been a hard-won battle.

"Going to reconciliation means going to confession," she said. "You go in to this little booth in church, and you tell the Father something bad or naughty you've done, something you feel bad about, and God forgives you."

Mateo considered this. Jane could practically see the puzzle pieces moving in his mind; trying to create a complete pattern.

"So it's like saying sorry to God?" he said.

"Exactly!" said Jane.

"And, if I say sorry, God won't be mad at me anymore?"

"God is never mad at you, Mateo. _Never._ If you go to confession, he will always forgive you, no matter what."

"Okay," said Mateo.

"But you don't have to go if you don't want to," said Rafael, his voice a fraction too stern.

"Well…" said Jane, choosing her words carefully. "You can't have your First Communion before you've been to confession. And you wanted to do that with the other kids, didn't you?"

Mateo nodded his head with vigour. Jane suspected that the main reason he was so eager to have his first communion had as much to do with the promised party and presents as it did with God's grace, but she did not want to rock an already unsteady boat.

"Can I go play in my room?" said Mateo, already filled with joyful anticipation of the imaginary adventures he was about to embark on. His legs were swinging back and forth in the air, although he was nearly big enough to reach the floor now.

"Put away your plate first," said Jane.

Stopping his legs mid-motion, Mateo stood up and grabbed his plate. Jane rose as well, following him to the sink.

"Careful," she exclaimed after her son, who had bolted at break-neck speed around the corner. She smiled to herself. _This is my life_, she thought, and gratitude washed over her.

She was rinsing a plate when her phone buzzed. Her mother was calling. She was about to answer when Rafael spoke.

"I don't want Mateo to go to confession."

Her heart sank. She should have seen this coming. Sending Xiomara's call to voicemail, she turned to her husband.

"Rafael," she said, her voice pleading.

"I'm sorry, I just don't. He's eight! I don't want him to start feeling guilty about every little thing!"

_Ding!_ Jane ignored the text.

"Confession isn't about guilt, it's about accountability," she said, "It teaches kids to think about their mistakes, and to ask for forgiveness."

"And you're telling me that recounting everything you've ever done wrong isn't about guilt?" Rafael said. His voice was calm, but the words came too fast, laced with something close to venom.

_Ding!_

"It's a good thing, Rafael. I've been going to confession since I was seven, and it's never done me any harm."

"And you're not filled with Catholic guilt," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm, meeting her eye with an intensity she had not seen for some time.

He's not trying to hurt you, she thought. He just wants what's best for Mateo, this is not about you. This was a mantra she had repeated many times. Whenever this side of her husband reared its head, she reminded herself that his words were not meant to wound, but came from a place of love.

"That was more because of my grandma than confession," she said.

_Ding!_

"Exactly! And since when does your grandma decide how we raise our son?"

"She doesn't! It's not about her, this is important to _me,_ Rafael."

_Ding!_

"Are you sure about that? Or are you just doing this because it's what your family would want? Because that's not how I want to raise my son."

"It's not-" The sound of her phone ringing interrupted.

"Who keeps texting you?" asked Rafael

"It's my mom."

For a moment they stood silent, their eyes trained on each other, as if measuring up an opponent. Rafael was standing by the table, his plate still where he'd left it. He could be so large when he wanted to; with his chest puffed out and his eyes intense but always betraying his emotions. She tried to read them now but found nothing but anger.

"You should take it," he said, turning away from her.

She hesitated, not wanting to end the argument like this, with so much still unsaid between them. If she took the time, she could fix this.

She answered the phone instead.

"Ma, this isn't a gre-"

"So you know how your dad's been acting weird lately?" Xiomara interrupted, her words coming hard and fast.

"Weird how?" she said, shooting Raf an apologetic look.

"Just weird. Secretive. Anyway, I was going to talk to him about it, like you said, and he totally shut me down! And then he left to take a shower and he got this text."

"You went snooping on his phone?"

"I know, I know, but listen! He got a text from someone called M that said _'I miss you too. Fine, Del Santo's at 5?_'"

"It's probably just a work thing. Ma, you're overreacting."

"Oh, am I ?" said Xiomara, her pitch rising with every word. "I opened the conversation, and M said something like _'We shouldn't do this,'_ and Rogelio's like _'She doesn't need to know, just one coffee, please.'_ and then _'I miss you'_!"

"Okay, I admit that sounds pretty bad," she said, trying to keep her tone measured. "But I'm sure there's a reasonable-" The sound of cars honking in the background made her pause. "Where are you?"

"I'm going to confront him!" said Xiomara, her words filled with reckless anger.

"Ma, no! That's a terrible idea! Just talk to him!"

"Oh, I'm gonna talk to him. I'm gonna talk right to his stupid, sneaking, lying face!"

"Ma, _no_-"

It took Jane a moment to realise she was speaking to the dial tone. She looked at her phone, bewilderment and anger rising within her.

"She hung up on me," she said. Then, to her husband "I have to go."

"What?" he demanded, turning his head sharply towards her.

"I'm really sorry, Raf, but my mom's about to do something really stupid, and I have to stop her!"

"Right," he gritted out, the venom in his voice no longer disguised. The bitter resentment hurt her more than if he had shouted.

"Please don't be mad," she said, taking a step toward him. She wanted nothing more than to touch him, but she knew he did not want comfort. "We'll talk about this later, I promise."

"Right," he said again, turning away from her.

"I'll be back soon, okay?" Jane spoke softly as she took another step in his direction.

"Just go, Jane," Rafael responded, his grip tightening around the back of the dining chair, his gaze resolute on the wall. Anything but her. She knew there was nothing she could say to calm him at that moment. He would need time.

"I…we'll talk later," Jane stated, and walked out

As Jane pulled in to the parking lot, she could see Xiomara slamming her car door.

She wound down her window and yelled. "Ma!"

Xiomara turned, her expression shifting from confusion to rage. "What are you doing here, Jane?"

"Stopping you," Jane replied. "Please, just get in the car."

Their eyes met, and for a moment, Xiomara's resolve seemed to falter. Holding her mother's gaze, Jane moved her hand towards the passenger side, looking for the door handle. If she could just get Xo in to the car, she would be able to talk her down.

A car horn sounded behind her, and she turned involuntarily toward the sound. She was blocking the entrance. With an irritable wave she turned back to her mother, but Xo was already walking away.

Her parking was not up to her usual standards, her car far too close to the line, but Jane did not care. Grabbing her purse, she left the car and took chase. Rounding the corner, her lungs aching from the short sprint, she found Xiomara waiting impatiently at a pedestrian crossing - heavy traffic the only thing between her and the man she hoped to confront. Spotting Jane, she eyed the red light as if it had insulted her.

"Please… be… reasonable…" Jane said, between laboured breaths. Having caught up to her mother, she leaned against a nearby pole. "Whoo, I'm really out of shape… Ma, stop!"

As soon as the light turned, Xiomara was off, marching with forceful determination across the street. As Jane once again took chase, she could see Del Santo's on the other side. Its lush outdoor space was inviting, but not romantic. This was not somewhere you took a secret lover, she registered with some relief.

"There he is!" said Xo, slowing her pace as she approached the brick wall shielding her from view. Jane saw him, too. His phone was in his hand, but he was not looking at it. His eyes shifted between the café entrance and the street, his hand tapping out a nervous beat on the table.

"Ma, listen to me," Jane said, snatching her opportunity to grab on to Xiomara's arm, making her turn towards her. "You can't just walk up and confront him."

"You're right," said Xo, positioning herself against the painted brick for a safer vantage point. "Wait until she's here, and I can confront them both!"

"That's not what I meant! Mom, there is no way dad is cheating on you! If he is hiding something from you-".

"Which he is!" Xo cut in.

"Maybe, but there's got to be another reason… He could be planning some kind of surprise for you!"

"Maybe…" said Xo, doubt crossing her face for the first time. The tight panicky knot in Jane's chest started to unwind, and she loosened her grip on Xiomara's arm. For a moment, the crisis seemed averted.

"Or maybe that's her," said Xo, her voice like ice. A woman was approaching Rogelio's table. Jane could only see her back, her dark ponytail bouncing in the afternoon sunlight.

"What the hell are you doing here, Rogelio?!" Xo shouted, storming towards her husband, nearly causing the startled waitress to drop her tray of drinks.

"Mom, she's just the waitress," said Jane, trying her best to sound reasonable as she followed her mother.

"Oh yeah?" Xo gestured in the waitress's direction, who looked thoroughly baffled. "Two coffees!" She pointed towards the drinks on Rogelio's table, rounding on him.

"Xiomara, please, I can explain!" Rogelio blurted, looking both frightened and in awe of his wife. "Please."

"Explain, then," replied Xo, her voice cool. Rogelio took a deep breath. He was about to speak when he spotted Jane, and his face froze.

"We should go," he said, rising hastily to his feet.

"Oh no, you don't," said Xiomara. She grabbed the closest chair and sat down, her arms crossed, eyes on her husband. "I'm staying right here until you explain."

"Please, Xiomara, I will explain everything, but we can't stay here."

"Why not?" she said, crossing her legs and leaning back in the chair, her expression challenging.

"Yeah, dad, what's going on?" asked Jane.

Rogelio looked from his wife to his daughter, cornered. He opened his mouth, as if to speak, but stopped abruptly. His gaze shifted to something behind Jane, sadness and resignation on his face. Xiomara turned her head, her eyes widening.

Jane turned, and time rewound. She could practically feel the last few years melt away. Once upon a time, that face had been home to her.

"Michael?" she gasped, her words close to a whisper.

"Hi, Jane."


	2. Chapter 2

**3 days earlier**

"Here's what we've got," said Dennis. He leaned forward in his chair, moving the computer mouse to open up a folder. The brief silence was punctuated by the sound of a pen repeatedly clicking, the end bouncing against the desk. "We've got operatives working to infiltrate groups in Miami that we suspect are taking orders from the Online Silk Road. We're hoping to infiltrate their systems to identify the Dread Pirate Roberts, but so far no luck."

The pen kept clicking, the noise getting louder by the second, boring into Michael's brain. He had forgotten this habit of his former partner. In Dennis's familiar untidy office, the incessant noise reverberated in his mind, like a ticking clock in reverse, bringing his former life back in stark detail.

Dennis plowed on. "Only higher-ups in these organisations can access the network. But, while working a smuggling operation linked to the Silk Road, we ran across an old friend of yours."

With a click of the mouse a photograph filled the screen. The face of Matthew Roderick was not easily forgotten. With a scar running across the left side of his face, it was hard to tell which of his eyes was more terrifying; the dark black one, or the ice blue glass eye he had chosen for the left socket. Even in this blurry, under-saturated image the sight of him made a chill run down Michael's spine. He nodded his recognition.

"We think Roderick jumped ship when the Sin Rostro network went under," explained Dennis. "He's now running his own operation in Miami, but we have reason to believe he's taking orders directly from Dread Pirate Roberts. Goes by the moniker 'Fezzik'."

"Clever," said Michael.

"According to our agents, Fezzik is expecting a large shipment in the next few days. We've already set up a sting. If we're right, and he's working directly under the Dread Pirate Roberts, we need him to flip. His access to the Silk Road could be used to track Roberts and take the whole operation down. But he's not the talkative type. Our best option is to rack up enough charges against him that he'll agree to a plea."

"So what do you need me for?" Michael asked. "I'm just a ranch hand." Although intrigued, he could not see where he fit in to Dennis's plan.

"I know," said Dennis, "but you got further than anyone on the Sin Rostro case, and he was part of her network. We need anything you've got on Roderick, anything that could potentially add a few more years to his sentence. We're hoping that if we present him with enough charges, he'll take the plea outright. But, if that doesn't work, we may need you on the stand."

Michael nodded, considering. "So you'd need me to stay in Miami?"

"Hopefully for no longer than a couple of weeks, depends on whether he decides to go to trial." Dennis turned to him, pausing the pen in mid-air. "Would that be okay?"

"I haven't had a day off in over two years," replied Michael. "I'm owed some time."

**Present**

At the sound of his name from her lips, Michael's heartbeat picked up. He had not wanted to see her for this exact reason, knowing that her face would bring it all back. He thought he had missed her in Montana during the lonely nights, but that was nothing compared to seeing her now. He searched her face for a reaction. How was she feeling? How did his reappearance affect her? Did it at all, or was he nothing to her now?

Her deep brown eyes met his, and he found nothing but shock. Reflexively he looked down at her left hand - at the ring - reminding himself.

She was married. She was happy.

"What are you doing here? In Miami?" she queried. Did he imagine the accusatory edge to her voice?

"Dennis is working an old case of mine, he's called me in to help."

"You're back with the police?" asked Jane, looking up at him in surprise and confusion, measuring him up.

"No, just helping out a friend. I'll only be in town for a couple of weeks."

He could read relief on her face; It felt like a punch to the gut.

They eyed each other silently, unsure what to say to each other after all this time. She was fiddling with her purse strap, fingers moving nervously around the metal chain, the gold ring on her finger catching the light. The building silence filled his throat, making speech impossible. There was so much he wanted to ask her, but the words would not form in the right order in his mind.

Finally, Jane broke the silence. "Have you been here long?"

"Just since Saturday," he responded, grasping on to the topic with relief, trying to keep his tone casual. "Ran into Rogelio a couple of days ago and…" He trailed off. Why had he come? Seeing her father suddenly felt like a betrayal. Comprehension dawned on her face, and shame engulfed him.

"You're M?" Xiomara inquired, turning to Rogelio.

"Yes," said Ro, looking ashamed. "I'm sorry I lied to you, Xiomara, but he asked me not to tell Jane, and I knew you wouldn't want to keep that from her."

"You did?" Jane let go of the purse strap, her hands falling to her side. A familiar furrow formed between her eyebrows as she looked up at him, her eyes filled with hurt. He hated doing this to her.

"I didn't think it was a good idea," he said, holding her gaze, hoping to make her understand, without words. "I'm not here to blow up your life again."

She did not look away. Her eyes were shining, filled with sadness and something he could not identify. Was it gratitude?

Although it only lasted for a moment, he could have sworn they looked at each other for hours. Days. The evening sun shone behind her, light bouncing off of her hair in a miniature firework display. He had pictured her face countless times, thought he had remembered every detail, but his memory had been a poor imitation of her beauty.

She blinked, and the spell broke.

"I saw your book in the bookstore the other day," he said, trying to fill the silence, willing the words to carry their unsaid meaning; his pride and happiness at her success.

She nodded, smiling, her eyes bright with unshed tears, and Michael knew she had understood. He smiled, too, finally letting the tension melt from his shoulders, his body relaxing. "It's really good."

"Thanks," Jane returned, "I think so." She rolled her eyes at her own joke, her smile growing wider. He laughed, beaming down at her; this time the silence was not awkward at all. "How's Charlie, and the baby?"

His smile faltered, reality returned. He had hoped this would not come up. He moved his hands to his pockets, looking away, buying time.

"Charlie is well," he answered, his eyes still fixed on a point above her head. "But we didn't end up getting married."

"Oh," said Jane. Her eyebrow crinkle returned. "But what about…?"

"She was two months pregnant when we got together," The words spilled out of Michael, desperate to dispel any implications of abandonment from her mind. "We obviously weren't advertising that, but… it didn't work out."

That was an understatement. His relationship with Charlie had been exactly what he needed at the time. Fiery, impulsive, and a little dangerous, she had been the antithesis to Jane. Every day with Charlie had been an adventure, but in the end they had been different in all the wrong ways. Once the initial excitement had worn off, it had not taken long for cracks to form, exposing them to each other as what they were; scared to follow their new path alone, left to cobble together a future from the pieces left to them.

"I'm sorry," said Jane

"It's fine, it wasn't meant to be." He smiled to himself. That had been what he had told Charlie, too, before she chased him off her property with a shotgun.

Approaching footsteps made them both turn. The waitress was walking towards them, her cheery demeanour clearly forced. "Can I get you two anything?" She asked with a stiff smile. The implication was clear; buy something, or get the hell out.

Michael gestured to a nearby chair, throwing Jane a cautious, questioning glance. She hesitated, her eyes flickering between her parents' table and the street beyond. He saw her eyes lock on to Xiomara's, and could practically hear the silent conversation passing between them.

Xo gave a small, almost imperceptible shrug, and Jane turned her head to face the waitress.

"I'll have an iced tea, please, and a large latte, two sugars. Thank you."

As she took a seat, he felt his chest expand. He took his coffee black now, had for years, but the certainty with which she ordered his old staple made his heart glow.


End file.
